


Small Measures of Peace

by MerryWriting



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Fingering, Force Bond, His only sunshine, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Rey is PURE SUNSHINE, as opposed to pining, but I think its ok, but that too, i'm literal trash, pinning, you know the song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 19:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13371777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerryWriting/pseuds/MerryWriting
Summary: Involuntary eves-dropping on a dream opens dialogue between Kylo Ren and Rey, but in the end they find their small measures of peace in silence.Because I had to write at least one forcebond story.





	Small Measures of Peace

Kylo jerked awake, jaw clenching, sweat dripping down his forehead; that prickling sense of being watched, of not being alone, had woken him, mercifully, from a nightmare,  
“I’d rather not do this now,” he rasped, mouth dry as the desert. No reply came, and so he sat up and motioned for the lights to brighten. There she was; the scavenger, the turncoat who had seen everything he had to offer and deemed it not enough. She looked beautiful when she slept,  
“Rey.” He said, trying to rouse her in the hopes she would slam close the connection; she was so much better at that than him. She shifted  
“Ben,” she murmured,  
“Yes, now get up and do whatever it is you do to get away,” he spat, but she didn’t reply. He leaned closer to her; she was sleeping. His heart skipped a few beats. Sleeping with him on her mind. He reached out to brush a stray hair from her face, fingers tingling with guilt, and felt the dreams sliding behind her skin.

It wouldn’t be right to… surely?  
“Please…” she sounded weary, tremulous. A nightmare, then. About him. He pursed his lips and swallowed, looking down at his sheets for a moment. He raised his hand again, hovering it over her face; he would ease the nightmare, he told himself, nothing more. It didn’t matter why.

 

Her mind was a kriffing mess, all jumbled and filled with broken shards of memory. Just like his. So much had happened… but he could see himself, through her eyes, as she begged him to stop the attack on the rebels. Begged him not to ask her to stay. In her dream she begged him to come with her, she pleaded, but he still said no. In her dream he looked so much bigger than he felt. Was he that big? That broad?  
Did he look so menacing.  
They saw his face change, together, and he felt her fear. Then the dream splintered. They were in the elevator, and in the interrogation room. He dug deeper, trying to find the source, and her mind shifted, sucking him in-

 

*

  
_“You know I can take whatever I want,” he said, tasting her sudden fear on his tongue. But there was something else… he was by her side now, staring at that perfect profile, running his tongue along his teeth… wondering what it would feel like to bite into her jaw. This time he could feel her whole mind laid bare. He could see how lonely she was. How she wanted. How she needed._  
_When he slid his hand up her thigh, she shuddered, the restraints clinking,_  
_“I’m not giving you anything,” she said, but her voice was weak,_  
_“We’ll see.”_  
_Her clothing seemed to melt when he pushed it aside, leaned down to bite her neck, running a broad palm up her stomach,_  
_“Please.” She whispered,_  
_“What?”_  
_“I need you, Ben-_

 

*

 

She ejected him from her mind with ease, and the force of it send him tumbling. Kylo sprawled onto the floor by his bed; that was…  
“That was you,” he said, staring at her flushed face,  
“How dare you invade my privacy!” Tears welled in her eyes; he could feel the confusion in her mind,  
“That was your dream.” He said, “You were… dreaming about me?”  
“Get out!”  
“Rey-”  
“OUT!” She threw her hand out and tore the thread that connected them with ease. He picked himself up from the floor and reached out for her cautiously; her mind was a fortress, but even the thickest walls couldn’t hide the strength of what she was feeling.  
Shame.  
Anger.  
Humiliation.  
Kylo sighed and pushed his hand through the sweaty mass of hair that sleep had made wild. So she was embarrassed? So what. The guilt gnawed at him in the ‘fresher. While he dressed. While he stretched out on his bed and tried to find sleep again. She had rejected him, left him for dead twice, plied him with false promises. Turned up without any time for preparation and expected him to fall in line; to face the source of her pain and suffering, and his, without hesitation. And he had. For her, despite the fact that she was no-one. From Nowhere. Nothing.  
Despite the fact that she swallowed him whole without trying.  
And it wasn’t enough.

 

His fists clenched tight at his side; the feeling was back. She was back. Sitting at the edge of his bed, deliberately not looking at him, shamefaced and shaking,  
“You… I… you didn’t see what you… it wasn’t,” she wiped her face,  
“Are you ashamed because it was me who saw, or because it was me in the dream?” He asked, suddenly curious,  
“I’m not ashamed.” She snarled. “I’m humiliated because you intruded…. And saw yourself.” She admitted that, and he had to smirk; it was the first time they had really spoken in months. And she had yet to try to kill him… all in all it was going well. “I don’t know why you’re smiling. You could just as easily have seen…” she waved her hand, “Poe. Or Finn. You’re not the only person I’ve dreamt about.” She said it with the air of someone having a tooth pulled. Jealousy balled in his stomach,  
“I see.” He said coolly, “Thank you for clearing that up, Scavenger.” He rolled away, toes curling, but the feeling didn’t go away.  
“There’s still time, you know,” she said, “you could come to us.”  
“And watch you make nice with FN-2187? No, thank you,” he replied curtly, despite the sudden realisation that he was showing, telling, too much. He turned to see her smile a little,  
“Jealousy is not becoming, Ben Solo,” she said softly. He should have told her that was not his name. Should have told her he was going to destroy them all. Instead he sighed and closed his eyes. Let her slip away.

 

*

 

A week passed without progress or incident, and then she was there, all of a sudden, in the middle of a briefing with Hux. Sitting in the nothingness of the throne room, reading. Smiling. Thinking of him. She looked up, and a shadow crossed her face, but it was lighter than it had been before.  
“Hello,” she said, and when he did not react she smiled, “not alone then?”  
She stood, brushing down her dress, a light summery thing that hid nothing as well as it should have,  
“Well, perhaps I should distract you.” She sat at the foot of his throne and smiled up at him, “I’m reading the Jedi texts. They’re surprisingly racy.” His lip twitched, “If you can call four-thousand-year-old, fourteen paragraph parables racy. Lots of death, violence… sex. When you read between the lines.”

His eyes flicked down to her face, and she smiled sweetly. As if she didn’t know he could see more than he should. She flushed when his eyes flicked to her breasts. Ah, perhaps she didn’t. Rey, the Scavver, he reminded himself, flushed. She looked lovely when she blushed,  
“Supreme Leader,” Hux ground the words out like they hurt him,  
“What?” Kylo asked curtly,  
“Should we press ahead?”

The men stared expectantly, Hux raised a brow. Kylo looked down at Rey, and realised he hadn’t been listening.  
“Send the reports to my quarters,” he growled, “I will inform you of my decision in the morning.”  
“Time is of the-”  
“Send them. To. My quarters.” He growled. Hux clenched his jaw and nodded. When he looked down again she was gone.

 

*

 

But she was in his quarters.

Brushing her hair out in long, smooth strokes.

He watched in silence, hypnotized by the steady rhythm of it all. He reached out for her, and she froze when his hands brushed her hair, but simply handed him the brush. He was surprised to feel it solid in his hands. He took over where she had left off, gently teasing the tangles from her tresses with the wooden comb. When the whole mass shone like a waterfall he placed the comb beside her, and leaned forward to press his nose into it, pushing his face to the back of her neck.

When she leaned back, he drew in a breath,  
“I-”  
“Don’t,” she said, “don’t say anything. Let me forget everything that’s happened for a while. I just need peace. And Silence.” He nodded and wrapped his arms around her. Rey melted into him and curled her legs back onto the bed. Somehow they slid into a heap on the bed, and his pulse picked up to a fervent point. She traced her fingers along he back of his hand before lacing them through his. “This is ok, isn’t it?” She said, “Because you’re not really here. I’m not really there. This is ok?”  
“This is ok.” He said simply, and kissed the crook of her neck, moving up, up, up, until she turned her chin to meet him. The first few kisses were tentative, soft, and gentle. But they became harder, needier, and something slithered through his mind. That dream. That need in her.

Suddenly it made sense; she needed the responsibility on him to live with it. And having her with him was worth taking that responsibility.  
Kylo rolled her onto her back, and kissed her gently, pinning her hands above her head. Rey whimpered, breaths coming fast as he pushed her legs apart,  
“This is ok?” He asked,  
“Yes.” Rey said.

Just once. It was all that was needed.

He pushed her dress from her shoulders, and up to her waist, and she just shivered. Her eyes were wet and wide and wild, but her lips were pink, and her neck was flushed. He pulled her thin, flimsy underwear out of the way and rolled her clit under his thumb until she whimpered and shook. He pushed one finger into her first, curling it to catch that spot of raised, slightly rough skin that all the books said should make a woman squirm. It did not disappoint. When her wetness was coating him he pushed a second finger in, curling them both, moving his fingers until the wet, soft sounds filled the room.  
“Yes?” He asked, just once,  
“Yes.” She panted, spreading her legs a little farther for him. She struggled against his hands a little as he pushed in, “Please.” She whispered, knees pressing against his hips. He ground his free hand between them until she threw back her head and moaned, rolling her hips on his cock as best she could in her restrained position. He was moving fast towards something big, stomach aching, thighs shaking, everything seemed to draw down into a tight light, sharp as a blade, dull as brass, that pulled him deeper and deeper until he buried his face in her hair and let out his own scream.

And she was gone.

 

A dream, maybe. But his fingers were still sticky.


End file.
